


aftermath.

by fairy___milly



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Chess, Discussion of CSA, Discussion of Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, after the king's rising, au - damen gets there a bit later, character study-ish?, exploring laurent's brain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29817135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairy___milly/pseuds/fairy___milly
Summary: au - Laurent's trial concludes and he awaits his execution.a bit of a character study for Laurent, second chapter is Damen and Laurent moving forward after the events of the novels.hard to explain lol but i hope you like it :)
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince), Laurent & the Regent
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	aftermath.

The night before his execution, two guards came to retrieve Laurent. Before they spoke, Laurent assumed it was already morning, and they would be taking him to the executioner's block.

"Your uncle invites you to have dinner with him," The first guard said. No titles, no honorifics. Laurent rolled his eyes.

It was cold and dark in his cell, and there were no windows through which he could tell the time. Based on the meals he had received twice a day, he figured he had been there nearly a week. He had been informed during his conviction that he would be executed on the dawn of the seventh day. A few hours away, Laurent figured. 

"Tell him I said to go fuck himself," Laurent said back flatly. His voice was raspy and dry from lack of use and insufficient water, and all sense of self preservation had left him. He would say whatever he wished, it would not make a difference anymore. 

"He ordered us to use force, if you refused," The guard said, "Are you refusing?" His hand was on the hilt of his sword.

Laurent considered it. 

"No," He sighed heavily. Maybe it would be good for him to have some closure before it was over. 

He sat still as the guard opened his cell door and moved to unlock the shackle that chained his left ankle to the floor. The metal clattered to the floor, and Laurent was left feeling too light after getting used to the weight of it. Before he could feel too good, the guards forced his wrists into restraints.

"This is unnecessary," Laurent said with no real power behind it. He was tired. The waiting was worse than anything. Several times, he had thought to himself that getting his head cut off would be better than waiting for it, but he knew that was exactly the reason his uncle chose to push back the date of his execution. He wanted to kill Laurent's spirit before he killed Laurent's body.

The guards did not say anything back. They none too gently pulled him from his cell and prodded him up the stairs.

Laurent let them lead him throught the halls. Mostly, he looked at the floor, but the few moments he did look up, his stomach twisted with the knowledge that this was Damen's home-- the place where he had grown up, the place he had lived his entire life. Laurent was going to die just outside the walls.

The guards took him into what looked to be a library. There were large double doors against the far wall, but every other wall was covered in shelves. Laurent was pushed into a chair at a table in the center of the room before he could take too much of a look around. 

His uncle had been waiting, and he smiled without warmth when Laurent met his eyes. Two wine glasses sat on the table. The regent's was nearly empty, but Laurent's was full.

"How have you been faring, my child?" 

"In the dungeons?" Laurent scoffed, "They've been excellent, thank you." 

The regent glanced to the guards and said, "You may remove his bonds. My nephew knows better than to do anything rash." 

It was the truth.

The guard nearest to him sliced through his bonds, and Laurent delicately set his hands in his lap. The regent nodded, and the two guards left to guard the doors from the outside. It had been some time since Laurent was in a room completely alone with his uncle, and it was an unwelcomed experience. It brought back memories of when he was younger, and he thought these moments alone were special.

"You called for me," Laurent reminded his uncle.

"Yes," The regent smiled, "I wanted to see you one last time, before your unfortunate end in the morning." 

"Quite unfortunate. If that's all you had to say--"

"Do not get up, child," The regent snapped, "I am not done yet."

Laurent suppressed a groan. He would much prefer the executioner to another hour with his uncle.

His uncle reached below the table and set a box on top. Laurent recognized it immediately as his own chess set from Vere. He had left it with Nicasie, and the thought made him nearly nauseous.

"I thought you might want to play," His uncle said, a smile twitching at his lips, "We used to play all the time when you were a little one." 

"Yes," Laurent turned his eyes back to his uncle, "we used to play right before you raped me." 

His uncle's smile dropped, "Now, Laurent. You should not use such harsh words. You know I have always cared for you. Even after your brother died, I watched over you. Even when you had no one else, I was there to take care of you. Even now."

"As I await an execution which you orchestrated, yes," Laurent eyed his wine. As much as he knew he probably should not drink it, a part of him wanted to be very, very drunk. It would make the conversation go easier, at least.

"I will not spend my last hours with you arguing about semantics," The regent waved a hand dismissively, "I will play white." 

Laurent rolled his eyes, "Fine." His uncle always played white.

The regent moved a pawn two spaces forward. Laurent did the same.

"I trust you've had some time to reflect these past few days," The regent moved his knight, and Laurent moved another pawn.

"Plenty." 

"And what conclusions have you come to?" The regent played chess brutally. That was something Laurent had always known to be true, but he was reminded every time they played. He moved a pawn, and Laurent could see him setting up a strategy.

"I have regrets," Laurent admitted, and he saw the way it made his uncle smile, "but I am content with the ending I have come to. It is not ideal, nor is it what I wanted, but I am content nonetheless." He slid another pawn forward to free up the pieces behind it. 

"You've been spending too much time with the Akielon if that's what you've been thinking about." 

"And what else is there to think about?" Laurent watched his uncle move before making his own calculated move, "There is nothing more to be done to change my fate, and there is even less I can do to change the past. I am glad that my death has come about by my own terms, even if it is by your hand."

"So young and yet so wise," His uncle said in a way that made it clear he did not really mean it. He slid his bishop across the board until it hit the edge as he said, "I want you to know that it was not an easy decision. To kill you, that is." 

Laurent moved his rook forward, "I imagine it was the easiest decision of your life." 

The regent shook his head, "You'd be mistaken. I always thought you could be useful to me. I tried, when you were younger, to convince you to abdicate, but--" 

"If you had tried hard enough, you probably could have gotten me to do anything," Laurent remembered being fourteen, more desperate than ever for his uncle's love-- for anyone's love, really. Laurent said, "You wanted to kill me because you wanted to feel as if you had earned the crown. Stealing it away from a child would not have been a good first impression of a king." 

The regent moved his queen.

"Besides," Laurent moved his knight, "sending men to my rooms to rape and kill me seems to suggest you took pleasure in killing me. Sending Damianos to my bed does, too. You wanted it to be agonizing." 

"It won't be," Was all the regent said as he moved his rook down the board, "It would be a bad image now, to make a show of it after you threw yourself at the feet of the court. Mercy is a fine virtue in a king. The suggestion was hanging, but I insisted on a beheading. Much cleaner, much faster. For that, Vere will consider me merciful."

"Right. Thanks for that." 

Laurent hated to think of what his countrymen would say about the entire affair-- that Laurent had fallen into the bed of the Akielon king and lost his head for it, that his uncle took pity on him and ensured a painless death. His uncle would probably be praised for his mercy.

"Take a deep breath, child," His uncle reminded him, "It will be quick. Nothing to fear."

"I am not afraid," Laurent said, and it mostly true, save for the traitorous part of him that dreaded the fall of the axe, "I have many people I will be glad to see again. My father and mother, Auguste, Nicaise. And someday, a long time from now, I will see Damen again. Tell me, who is it you think will be waiting for you in the next life?"

He moved his rook, and his fingers lingered for a second over the smooth wood.

His uncle just gave him a sharp look as he moved his bishop. Only after the move was complete did he say, "Yes, you have many people waiting on you. Your father, who never wanted a second child and only viewed you as an extra. Your mother, who died when you were-- how old? Too young to have a clear memory of her. Your brother, who I am sure will be pleased to hear you slept with his murderer. Nicaise, the child whore who died because of you. And of course, Damianos, who will forget you by the time he joins you." 

Laurent shook his head. He slid his took four spaces down the board. He said, "Your words are not enough to scare me anymore."

There was a certain clarity that came when he had accepted the fact that he would be dead soon. He was not afraid of what he would find in the afterlife.

"Surely you understand the truth of them," His uncle argued.

Choosing to ignore this, Laurent said with a cruel arch of his brow, "There will be nothing and no one waiting for you in the next life, where you will spend an eternity. That is what happens when you love nothing and no one."

"I loved you, didn't I?" 

Laurent replied easily, "No." 

There was a beat of silence between them, then his uncle changed the subject. It was just another way of him assuming control over a situation he had lost track of. Laurent did not protest.

"As many times as I imagined how this would end, never once did I consider that it would simply be a matter of your own stupidity," The regent captured Laurent's rook, "He does not love you." 

"He does," Laurent did not say it as an argument, but as a correction. His tone was cool and his voice even, "I know he does." 

"He will love another." 

"I should hope so." 

The regent chuckled at that, "Do you?"

"Yes," Laurent moved a pawn, "I am not like you."

"And what am I like?"

Laurent glanced up to meet his uncle's eyes, "You don't love anything, you just want to own it. Then you make sure it is dependent on you, so when you discard it, it comes crawling back and begging for you. You like that part the most, I think. It makes you feel powerful."

"You forget, sweet child, that I _am_ powerful," The regent quirked a brow as he swiped Laurent's pawn off the board and replaced it with his own, "I am the king of Vere." 

"And if you were confident about that, you would not need to say it so much. Powerful men don't need to talk about it." The pawn had been a set up. It left the regent's knight undefended for Laurent to take in his next move.

"What do you know about power? You've never had any," The regent replied. He watched Laurent take his knight, and his expression soured just a little bit, but enough that Laurent noticed. 

"I've watched you abuse it for long enough to get an understanding of it, I think," Laurent replied without missing a beat.

"That tongue of yours. It is a wonder no one has killed you for it," The regent slid his remaining knight toward Laurent's queen. It was an obvious move, though a strong one. Laurent defended by moving his queen out of harm's way. 

"Not for lack of trying." 

"Certainly not. You are lucky the Akielon did not sink a sword into your heart."

Laurent watched the regent move and said with just a hint of humor, "Which time?" 

"He ought to be thanking me. I am doing him an act of service in executing you," The regent sighed, "but alas, even men like him are rendered fools when it comes to--"

"Love?" Laurent said it flatly, with a skeptical raise of his brow, but silently he hoped his uncle would agree. There was still a part of him, childish and repressed, that longed for approval, even in moments he knew with absolute certainty that he would not receive it.

"A pretty face," His uncle corrected, "Besides, I am sure the prince found an alternative use for your silver tongue."

Laurent slid his bishop toward the regent's side of the board. There was an opening-- a lapse in judgement, maybe-- that would give him a win in three moves. 

"It is true that Damen has seen the worst of me," Laurent said, raising his eyes again to meet his uncle's, "as it is true that he loves me regardless." 

"Men like him, they fall in love all the time. Every week, every day. Don't go thinking you are something special to him. That woman, Jokaste-- doesn't it bother you how similar you look? Kastor tells me you could be her twin." 

"Speaking of, how is Kastor faring?" Laurent watched the regent moved and felt a frown tug his lips. He had not been expecting his uncle's bishop to take his rook. The move had not seemed obvious. His eyes searched the board for what his uncle might be trying to do, but he found nothing.

"He fares as well as one can expect."

"Not well at all, then," Laurent smirked, "His is weak and unfit. But likeness attracts likeness. Birds of a feather and such." 

"And yet he wears the crown of Akielos." 

"For how long, I wonder?" Laurent moved his queen.

"Time will tell."

"I cannot imagine you will let him last," Laurent said, arching a brow, "How will you incapacitate him, I wonder? I know you do not like opponents who can fight back. That's why you stopped liking Nicaise the moment he stood up to you."

"Nicaise was an unfortunate casualty of your actions, not mine." The regent kept his eyes on the board as he slid his rook down five spaces.

"Nicaise was a child whom you raped and killed. His fate was your doing alone," Laurent snapped. Unbidden, the memory of Nicaise's blue eyes turned gray with death sprang forward, and Laurent's stomach twisted with nausea. 

Many times, Laurent had imagined Nicaise's death, especially since facing his own. In the darkness of his cell, while he pondered the executioner's block, his mind replaced his own execution with Nicaise's. His heart hammered in his chest as he imagined Nicaise, tiny and young and scared. The guilt that inevitably followed was nearly debilitating. 

"It is a shame. I cared for him, as I cared for you," The regent said with a dramaticised sigh, then turning his eyes to Laurent, he said, "Your death will be swift, nephew. I will ensure it, as I ensured it for Nicaise."

Laurent slipped his biship past the regent's defenses, "He was thirteen."

"Nearly grown," The regent shrugged as he captured the bishop. Frustration was making it harder for Laurent to think of moves. 

"Not hardly," Laurent snapped. He slammed a pawn down one space forward to block the regent's rook.

"I hope you found a nice spot to lay him to rest," The regent said easily. He moved his queen boldly across the board. 

Anger flared in Laurent's chest, and for a moment, he could not think, so he just moved his queen. 

He _had_ found a nice spot for Nicaise, far enough away from the road that it would not be ridden over. He had visited it alone once just before leaving to say a prayer. Praying was not something he did often, nor did he have a particularly strong relationship with the gods. Still, he prayed as hard as he could that they would protect Nicaise's spirit and guide him to rest.

"You will not be given the same luxary, I'm afraid," The regent gestured impatiently for Laurent to make his move, "Your pretty head will be put on the traitor's wall, and after that, you will have an unmarked grave."

"What happens to my body after I am no longer inside it is no bother to me," Laurent muttered as he made a hasty move of his pawn.

"Good boy," His uncle said with a nod, "You're taking this very well." 

The words forced memories forward that Laurent had done all he could to forget. His blood ran cold, and for a moment, he could not move.

"Much better than Nicaise did, anyway."

Laurent's vision was red around the edges as cold anger swept over him. His voice was low and grim as he asked, "What?"

"Poor little thing cried when he realized I was serious about executing him," The regent sighed and shook his head, "He begged me to reconsider, said he would do anything. All I asked him to do was renounce you, and the stubborn child refused."

Laurent could not speak. He tried to form words, but his mind was too clouded with fury and his mouth was dry. His uncle smiled.

"In a few hours, you will kneel in front of the block, just like little Nicaise did. It's fitting, I think, that you are going to die on your knees for me," The regent slid his bishop forward and took Laurent's queen. He said smoothly, "That's check, my sweet." 

With a myriad of emotions swirling in his head, Laurent looked down at the board. Surely enough, his king was in check. He moved the king to the side, barely thinking. 

"And that makes you--" Laurent's body was tense as a bowstring, "What? Proud? I should think so. You take pride in abusing children, why not take pride in killing them."

The regent just moved his rook.

"I hope, on all the gods, that you get exactly what is coming to you," Laurent slammed his own rook down on the board to block his king, and the pieces shook a bit. He could think of nothing but jumping out of his chair and killing his uncle himself, but his body did not obey. Anger and tension left him rigidly still, fingers curled and heart full of fire.

He wondered for a second how quickly the guards would rush into the room if his uncle called. Would he have enough time to get his hands around his uncle's throat? A glance around the room proved yet again that there were no weapons. 

"It is cute that you still believe the gods give only what we deserve. Childish and foolish, yes, but cute," The regent arched a brow and moved his bishop again, then adjusted the pieces that had been shaken when Laurent slammed down his rook. His hands were impossibly steady, and the ring with the king's signet was on his pointer finger. Laurent's father had worn it once. It had been stowed away in Laurent's chambers ever since, waiting for his coronation. 

"I will make it my final prayer, that they destroy you," Laurent hissed. He took a second to refocus, then deliberately slid his bishop across the board.

Final prayers were important in Veretian religion. It is said that the gods pay you the most mind when you are preparing to meet them, and they take heed to your parting words. Laurent had heard stories of pirates and tyrants who took their enemies by surprise and killed them quickly for the express purpose of not allowing them their final prayers, just in case they prayed for vengeance.

The regent was eyeing him a bit more cautiously now, though he did not seem too shaken, "Ah, so there it is. I noticed you had mentioned the gods more frequently today. It is natural, child, to be afraid of death. There is no shame in that." 

"I am not afraid of it. I've only been thinking about it, is all," Laurent watched the regent make his next move. Laurent mapped out his own moves in his head, then moved his knight.

"Tell me your thougts," The regent said lightly. He moved his queen closer still to Laurent's king, and Laurent moved his rook again to block. 

"I thought you must have gotten the gods' favor some way or another," Laurent's rook took the regent's queen, and the regent pressed his lips into a thin line. Laurent continued, "but I have decided that was only an attempt to save my own ego after being beaten. There are no gods here, only you." 

"Laurent," The regent said in a patronizing tone, "you know the rules. The king always has the favor of the gods-- that is where he gets the right to rule." He moved his bishop.

"And yet you got your right to rule by murdering and scheming and raping," Laurent slid a pawn forward. Laurent said, "Every inch of power you hold, you have stolen. If the gods pay half a mind to who wears the crown, they will end your reign swiftly. For that, my soul will rest easily tomorrow." 

The regent took his pawn, and began to say, "You think--"

"Checkmate," Laurent interrupted, sliding his black rook to the white king.

There was a long beat of silence as the regent studied the board to make sure Laurent was right. Slowly, he lifted his hand and knocked over his king, then he smiled with warmth Laurent had not seen in quite some time. He said, "You really are clever." 

There was a spark of pride in Laurent's chest, which he tried to push away. As much as he convinced himself he did not need his uncle's approval, getting it was gratifying. How many years now had he wanted to hear those exact words? His uncle had never been generous with compliments, not even when he was a child. Hearing one now made his heart beat a little faster. 

"It is a shame you chose to waste your talents the way you did," The regent sighed dramatically, "I should have warned you, poor thing, that when you are young and naive and stupid, sex feels like love, and love feels like something worth dying for."

"I don't see how you would know," Laurent snapped.

"I am your kin, my child. I love you," The regent shook his head, and then said the loaded words, "and I know you." 

Laurent didn't let himself react.

"That is a difficult thing, no? To know someone and still love them. Especially someone like you, who has so many sharp edges underneath pretty features," The regent cocked his head, letting his eyes roam over Laurent, then he continued, "You say your Akielon loves you." 

"Yes," Laurent breathed.

"Sweetheart," The regent chided, his tone patronizing. He said, "You've gotten it into your head that he knows and loves you. I ought to tell you that it cannot be both."

"And yet, here we are." Laurent arched a brow sharply. The knocked over king felt less like a victory all of a sudden and more like a trap. 

"Here we are," The regent repeated. He then straightened in his seat and said, "Did you know that the royal family of Akielos has rigorous standards for bed partners? It is thought of as dishonorable to offer yourself to one of them if you are not pure." 

"You're grasping at air now. He knew I was not a virgin. I told him as much."

"There is a bit of a difference, between the truth and what you told him," The regent replied easily, "If you were certain he would love you despite your childhood, you would have told him the truth, not whatever thinly veiled excuse you gave."

Laurent scoffed.

"You saw the way he reacted to the news," The regent said with an arched brow, "Do you still think he can love you, now that he knows you? Now that he sees your... how should I put this... lack of virtue?"

There it was. It had taken a bit of digging, but the regent had found the gap in Laurent's armor, and he'd fired an arrow straight into it.

" _You_ did this to me. It was not--" Laurent's voice broke off, and he quickly shook his head, "--my fault. You forced me."

"You would like that, wouldn't you? If you could claim innocence? If you could run to your Akielon and tell him I beat you bloody until you complied? But we both know it was you who begged me to stay with you when you were lonely."

"I was a child," Laurent snapped, "I was grieving."

"You were so sweet back then," The regent smiled, too sugary sweet, "I wish it did not have to be this way."

"I suppose it doesn't matter now," Was all Laurent said, and the regent smiled again.

"No, my child."

Then the doors flew open, and one of the guards rushed to the regent, whispering frantically, while a second guard dragged Laurent from his seat and forced his arms behind his back. The regent glanced to Laurent and said, "Take my nephew to his cell." 

The second guard finished binding Laurent and began to move to the door, but stopped abruptly. It took Laurent a moment, in his confusion, to understand that the footsteps in the hall were not from his uncle's men. 

"There is no time, your Grace," The first guard was telling the regent, "We are under attack." 

Laurent's heart skipped a beat, and he tried to tamper down the spark of excitement he felt.

The regent looked at him, then to the guard holding him and said, "Do it now." 

Laurent had only a moment to forganize his thoughts into a quick final prayer before the doors crashed open. The guard looped an arm around Laurent and held the short knife from his belt to Laurent's throat.

It was Jord at the door. Two Akielon soldiers stood at his either side, weapons raised. Laurent's stomach twisted with relief and panic at the same time. The blade was resting right up against his skin with nearly enough force to draw blood, but not quite.

"My Lord," Jord said to the regent, "release the prince of Vere and come with us." 

The regent's respons was to look at the guard and order, "Cut his throat."

Laurent felt the guard change his posture, readying the knife, then heard the wind of something rushing past his ear. All at once, the guard's body jerked and fell to the ground in death, and the knife scraped shallowly across the side of Laurent's throat. A crossbow bolt was lodged into the guard's head.

Before Laurent could really process what was happening, his bonds were being cut and he was being turned around, held in someone's firm hands.

More people had entered the room through the back door. Akielon and Veretian guards alike surrounded the regent, whose remaining guard threw down his weapon.

After a moment of processing, Laurent's eyes focused on his rescuer.

"Laurent," Damen's smooth voice asked, leaning his head down to search Laurent's eyes, "are you alright?"

"You--" Laurent shook his head, "You were not supposed to come here."

A small smile quirked Damen's lips, "And yet, here I am." 

"Here you are," Laurent repeated, too much in awe to say much else.

Damen turned to his men and said some quick orders in Akielon, and the men dragged the regent from the room. Only Nikandros stayed, for a hesitant moment, before following them out. 

Once alone, Damen gave his attention back to Laurent. He was searching Laurent from head to toe, careful to make sure Laurent was unhurt. He was, save for the marks left by the bonds around his wrist and the ring of bruises around his ankle left by the shackle that he'd been forced into in his cell.

"I was afraid I would be too late," Damen said with watery eyes. A huff of a laugh escaped him as he brushed Laurent's hair back and murmured, "but you're still here."

"Yes," Laurent nodded, "You got here just in time." 

The look on Damen's face darkened, "When--"

"Soon," Laurent answered with a little shrug, "At dawn."

Damen took Laurent's hands in his and kissed them softly on the knuckles. When he lifted his head, he said, "I wish I had gotten here sooner, to spare you the stress."

"I did not think you would come at all," Laurent knit his brows, "You were not supposed to come, Damen, I--"

"Don't," Damen leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead, and Laurent melted into the touch. Whatever protest he had, he had forgotten it. Damen said, "I will always come when you need me."

Overwhelmed with the warm feeling in his chest, Laurent slipped forward to kiss Damen, who laughed softly and stopped him just long enough to kiss the tip of his nose before pulling him in for a real kiss, soft and gentle. All too soon, Damen moved his hands to Laurent's shoulders to hold him at arm's length. Laurent wanted nothing more than to kiss until he was dizzy, but he held still as Damen looked him over.

"Are you truly alright? You haven't been hurt?" Damen's eyes were sharp and critical, "You look thin." 

"I'm perfectly fine," Laurent's lips slipped into a smile as he shook his head. Damen's brow was creased with worry, and Laurent wanted to smooth it over with a kiss.

"You've lost weight." 

Laurent frowned, "Do you think so?" 

He had not noticed, but when he thought about it, it was likely. He had not been eating well in his imprisonment. The food they brought him were small, sad portions, and he had never eaten the entire plate anyway. He had been too sick with nerves.

"Yes," Damen affirmed, "Gods, you look sick. I'll take you to the kitchen after Pascal looks at you." 

"I'm fine, Damianos, really," Laurent insisted. He felt fine, anyway, but maybe that was just because Damen was here.

"You're just in shock."

"I'm alive, aren't I?" 

"You're alive," Damen agreed. 

Then with a huff that sounded a bit like a laugh, he drew Laurent in to a hug and held him tightly. Laurent buried his head in the crook of Damen's neck and didn't let go for a long while.

**Author's Note:**

> pleas enjoy my very niche chess symbolism :)


End file.
